Rogue, our Road Captain, is just finishing his updates on the regular supply runs when my phone rings. Reaper glares at me, and I grab my phone to silence the call. When I see Mika’s name flash across the screen, I know I have to answer. She’s never called before, and she knows I’m in an important meeting.
I nod to Reaper, then quickly exit the room. I’m sure I’ll have to pay for it later, but I don’t care. My heart is nearly tumbling out of my chest, wondering what’s wrong.
“Hello? Mika?”
I don’t hear anything on the other end of the line at first, other than what sounds like rustling leaves and heavy breathing.
“Mika? Are you okay?”
This time, I do hear her voice. But it’s far away, like she’s on speaker phone, but it’s in her pocket or something. I crank the volume up on my phone to hear as much detail as I can.
Muffled voices argue back and forth, my blood running cold when I hear two distinct male voices along with Mika’s.
“Grant, why would you do this to me?” My heart thrashes in my chest hearing the anger and fear in her voice. “Grant, Heath, we grew up together. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Just because we shared a few of the same foster parents doesn’t make us family,” a male voice answers harshly. “You’re our ticket in, and just because you escaped the first time doesn’t mean we were going to give up on you.”
“This is all to get into Sons of Destruction?” Mika asks.
A fuller picture of what’s happening forms in my mind. As much as my woman and I have shared over the last few days, we didn’t go into too much detail about the night I found her at the auction. I didn’t want her to have to relive those awful memories, but I realize now I should’ve gotten more information so I could’ve protected her better.
These two fuckers, Grant and Heath, must be foster Brothers wanting to patch in. I’m guessing they used familiarity to lull Mika into a false sense of safety before drugging her and dropping her off at the auction. White-hot rage boils my blood, sending adrenaline and righteous fury coursing through my body.
“Shut up, bitch,” someone snarls at her. I growl at the insult, wishing I were right there so I could snap his neck in two. “Get in the goddamn car.”
“If you guys are bikers, where are your motorcycles?” Mika asks. Part of me is glad to see she has some fight in her, but the other part is wondering why she’s antagonizing them. “You’re still driving around with this old piece of shit Toyota? You can hardly tell it’s supposed to be dark blue with all the rust eatingaway at the paint. How old is it anyway? At least as old as my twenty-two years?”
I see what my smart girl is doing. She’s describing the car her foster brothers are presumably getting ready to throw her into.
“He told you to shut up, didn’t he?” the other man says. “Are you holding a fucking phone in your hand? Jesus.”
Right before the line is cut, Mika shouts out a string of letters and numbers. I write them down on my arm, realizing it’s a license plate number.
I strain to hear anything else, but the call cuts out. I assume her phone was smashed into a million pieces, and I’m hoping she didn’t get any physical punishment for trying to save her own life.
I burst into the back room, not caring that I just interrupted church. Fifty pairs of eyes look at me, but I feel Reaper’s gaze above the others. I know I’m on thin ice after what happened during the not-so-stealth mission, but this is more important than anything else I’ve ever worked to achieve in my entire life. If Mika isn’t by my side, what’s the point?
“They got her,” I heave out in an exasperated breath. “Mika,” I clarify. “She… She just called, and – and… They took her, and…”
“Take a breath,” Reaper demands. “Slow down, tell us what happened.” His features have turned from annoyed to alert, sensing the panic in my voice.
“The call,” I start again, trying to get my thoughts together. “Her foster brothers were the ones who took her to the auction in the first place. Apparently, the new rule for patching into Sons of Destruction is bringing a woman to be sold.”
My brothers grunt and snarl almost in unison at this piece of information. Now that I have their attention, I finish giving them the rest of the information.
“I have a description of the car and the license plate. If we can track that, we can find her. I don’t know if they’re stupid enough to bring her straight to the Sons of Destruction clubhouse, or if they’re making a pitstop, but we have no time to waste.”
Rogue is already standing up and heading my direction. I’m beyond grateful to have such a loyal friend. The Prez takes a second to absorb all the details, then nods his head. Reaper walks to the back of the room, where we have a bunch of computers and high-tech equipment that I know nearly nothing about.
Everyone springs into action, and I’m asked by someone about the car and the license plate. I rattle off the information and watch one of my MC brothers type it into a computer. He pulls up multiple databases, and my eyes cross with the lines and lines of numbers on the screen.
Reaper claps me on the shoulder and turns me around, directing me toward the MC’s armory. “He’ll track down the car location while we prepare for a showdown.”
“Thanks, Prez,” I tell him sincerely.
“You can thank me when it’s all over, and you have your girl in your arms again.”
What feels like hours later, but in reality is closer to ten minutes, six of our most trusted members, including Reaper and me, head to the last known location of the vehicle. We're definitely not at the Sons of Destruction's clubhouse, and in fact, I’m not sure anyone else knows about this incident. From what I gathered in the phone call, they aren’t official members yet, which means they don’t have the backing of their club.
